“Hi,” I say. “I’m Danielle. Diana’s sister.”
“I thought so. You two look alike. I’m Mike.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Are you enjoying the island?”
I nod, looking past him to the outdoor bar where Logan went. “I am. A lot. You?”
“I’ve enjoyed it more in the past,” he laughs. “We brought our kids this time, and they’re still a little young to go out and explore.”
“How old are they?”
“Seven and five.”
“Oh wow, you must have your hands full.”
Mike nods. “At least the weather is nice, right? They’ve played on the beach all day today. I have sand in places I didn’t know could get sandy.”
I chuckle and wonder if Mike is a standup guy like he seems right now, or if he’s a dirtbag like Peter. It’s not fair to judge his whole family based on his shitty behavior. I’m nothing like the rest of my family, after all.
We practice walking down the aisle three times. My left arm sports the scratches, Diana reminds me all three times to keep my body angled so the “gross wounds” don’t show on anyone’s photos they might take and upload to social media before she has a chance to “request they edit them.”
I spot Logan after the third run and sneak out of the line up to go over to him.
“You are the best!” I tell him, grabbing a French fry and dipping it into ranch. He knows I prefer it to ketchup.
“And I got you a strawberry margarita.”
“You know me so well.” I pick up the drink, suck down a mouthful, and then go back to the line. We walk down the aisle and line up again. Diana wants to run through everything once more, and I rush back over to Logan, quickly eating a few more fries before picking up the margarita.
The wedding planner says only Diana and Peter need to take a practice run again and the rest of us can relax. I sit next to Logan and pull my phone from my purse as I eat a few more fries. I texted Grandpa early today but haven’t actually spoken to him.
“Hey, kiddo,” he answers. “Having fun?”
“I am, actually. How are things at home?”
“I’m hardly managing without you, which is what you wanted to hear, right?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“It’s quiet without you here. And there’s been a bottle of wine in the fridge since last night that’s still full.”
“Hey,” I say with a laugh. “I don’t like wine that much.” Logan hears and rolls his eyes at me. “I’m glad you’re doing all right without me. But the real question is how’s the bar? Did it fall into ruins without Logan there to manage things?”
Grandpa laughs, and his laugh turns into a cough. That’s been happening to him lately. “I went there last night. Busy as ever.”
“That’s good. I don’t know the last time Owen actually worked at work.”
Logan nods in agreement and picks up the margarita, taking a big drink.
“Enjoy the rest of your time in Hawaii.”
“I will, Grandpa.”
“And Ellie?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop worrying and follow your heart.” He ends the call after that, leaving me to think about his words. Logan and I share the rest of the margarita, and when he gets up to recycle the plastic cup, the bridesmaid that was talking to me this morning comes over.
“Hey!”
“Hi,” I say racking my brain for her name. Did she even give it to me? Shit. I don’t remember.
“I take it you two went to the Bamboo Forest?”
“We did.”
She smiles. “Sounds so romantic!”
I look at Logan. “Yeah. It was.”
“Ughhhh, I can only imagine. You guys are seriously couple goals.”
I’m glad we’re outside in fading light. My cheeks are getting red, though to anyone else, they’d probably assume I’m thinking all sorts of naughty thoughts about Logan, not dealing with guilt and regret over the lie.
“I mean, the way he looks at you. Girl, you are so damn lucky! I’d give anything to have someone look at me like that.”
I used to say that exact thing. I’d give anything to have someone look at me like that. And here we are…
“Time to go eat!” my sister calls. The bridesmaid whose name I can’t remember hurries back to the group of girls, and I wait for Logan. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if he’s doing this for show right now.
We’re eating at an open-air restaurant, with tables in the sand near the ocean. I take off my shoes and squish my toes in the sand under the table. We’re seated at a table with a few other bridesmaids and groomsmen, and my parents are at a table right next to us. My father purposely takes a seat at the end of his table so he can talk to us, which was something I’ve been trying to avoid since I’m not the world’s best liar.